


Safety Measures

by Dimity Blue (Arnie)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Epilogue, Episode: s02e02 Bad Code, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Post-Episode: s02e02 Bad Code, Protective John Reese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnie/pseuds/Dimity%20Blue
Summary: John and a drugged Harold at the end of Bad Code.Contains a few lines from the episode.Spoilers for s02e02 Bad Code.
Relationships: Harold Finch & John Reese
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	Safety Measures

"Am I hit?"

There was a faint slur in Harold's voice but John ignored it for the moment. Making sure Harold wasn't about to bleed out was a far higher priority. John ran his hands over Harold's front. Thankfully, Root's bullet had missed him.

"I don't think so." John got Harold up on his feet and kept a tight hold to prevent him falling down again. "Sorry it took so long." The change in position gave John a good look at Harold's neck and the mark of a syringe. As John had thought, Root had drugged Harold in order to make it easier to kidnap him. John had dealt with Harold long enough to know that out-thinking him was a challenge. Even Root had found it necessary to stack the deck. However, walking would serve the twofold purpose of waking Harold up and getting them out of there, so John headed for the exit.

"I really didn't intend for you to come and find me, Mr. Reese," Harold said. "There are other people that need your help."

That was typical of Harold. "Well, you saved my life once or twice, Harold. Seemed only fair I return the favour." John left it unsaid that he fully intended on keeping Harold alive for as long as possible.

By the time they got to the car, Harold was steadier on his feet but John was positive it wouldn't last long. Between Root's drug and the adrenalin crash, John thought Harold would be out like a light before they reached the airport. He was right. John was barely in the car himself before Harold's eyes were half-closed.

"Do you know what she gave you?" John would have preferred to head straight back to New York, but if Harold needed a hospital...

"A mild sedative...to make me more amenable." Harold blinked. "I'm rather tired."

"It's all right, Harold. You're safe."

The edge of Harold's mouth turned up in a half-smile, but his eyes closed before he could speak.

John checked Harold's pulse to be sure, then headed for the airfield. The sooner he got Harold back to the library, the better.

Reaching the airfield was easy. Getting Harold up the steps of the private jet proved to be another thing entirely.

"Harold, can you walk?"

Harold blinked at him. "Walk?"

"We're at the airfield. We need to get you onboard the jet."

Harold's gaze moved past John and he looked faintly surprised. "You have a private jet?"

"No. You have a private jet. We need to get you on board."

"It makes more sense that I have a private jet," Harold said, confidentially. As John got him out of the car, he added, "Actually, I have two." Then he started sinking.

John grabbed him around the waist and pulled him upright. "Yes, but the other's in France. Can you walk?"

Harold gave him a confused look. "It shouldn't be in France. Why would it be in France? I keep it in California."

"I'm sure it'll be back there soon." John eyed the steps, slipped Harold's glasses off his face and into his own pocket, then hoisted Harold over his shoulder. It would be the quickest way.

By the time he put Harold into a seat and started buckling him in, Harold was asleep again. John gave a nod to the co-pilot as he closed and locked the jet door, then he followed the co-pilot into the cockpit. "How long before we take off?" It was a standard question and it gave John the opportunity to eyeball the two pilots and ensure they hadn't been replaced. Not that it was likely as Root seemed to work alone, but John didn't want to take any chances.

The pilot reached for the radio. "It shouldn't be long now."

Rather than wait for an answer, John returned to Harold's side and watched him sleep. It wasn't until the plane was safely in the air that John moved again. He took Harold's glasses out of his jacket pocket along with a small toolkit.

Root had exposed a gaping hole in their security. Losing Harold and being unable to track him was unacceptable and couldn't be allowed to happen again. It was up to John to see that it didn't. He didn't suppose Harold would agree to having a tracker on him at all times but, since John had no intention of asking him, that didn't matter.

John unscrewed the end piece on one side of Harold's glasses and carefully deepened the screw's hole. The tracker he had was the smallest on the market but could be tracked from several feet away. It was extremely unlikely that Harold would ever be far enough from every cell phone network to disappear off John's radar, even if Harold cooperated with any would-be kidnappers.

John replaced the screw on the side of Harold's glasses, tightened it, and slipped the glasses into Harold's pocket. The real tracker - the one Harold would never find - was in place.

That left the decoys. It was the work of a few minutes to fit one inside Harold's watch casing and install a larger one inside the heel of one of Harold's shoes. John had no doubt Harold would find the shoe one that night, and probably the watch one too. John expected the pair of them to 'mysteriously' lose their signals soon. However, even if Harold suspected the existence of a third tracker, he'd have a hard time finding it.

Finally, the hard ball of anxiety in John's chest eased. Harold could say what he liked about only being John's employer, but they both knew he was far more than that. Before Harold, John hadn't cared whether he lived or died. He'd figured it was only a matter of time before the CIA caught up with him and he hadn't been able to bring himself to care. It was entirely thanks to Harold that John had a purpose and a life again.

Just then, Harold stirred. He blinked a few times, then looked at John. His face looked oddly naked and vulnerable without his glasses.

"They're in your pocket."

As Harold blinked again, then reached for his pocket, John went over to the mini bar and fetched a club soda and ice for him. The sooner Root's sedative was flushed through Harold's system, the better.

"I really didn't expect to see you again, Mr. Reese." Harold tucked away his handkerchief. His glasses, newly polished, gleamed in the lights, and Harold looked as neat and prim as ever. He tilted his head slightly, as though he could feel the miniscule weight difference caused by the tracker.

John handed over the drink and sat down. "I was in the area."

"Thank you."

The thanks might have been for the drink or the rescue. John took them for both. "You're welcome."

~'~

_A few days later..._

"Did you find your jet?"

Harold gave John a long, sideways glance but answered readily enough. "It's back in California after a wild week in Paris. The executive who borrowed it to impress his mistress has been dealt with."

"You really shouldn't leave your keys lying around."

"I didn't. He borrowed my pilot as well."

"That's even more careless of you, Finch."

Harold gave him another, unimpressed look. "Maybe I'll send Bear to guard him. We have a new number, Mr. Reese; I hope you're ready."


End file.
